s with their old faces! It's a difficult
task to make them young, but I believe I'm accomplishing it. And it
really is fun to feel you're doing something positive for the good of
the world. If I don't fight hard against it, you'll be accomplishing
your purpose of turning me into a useful person. The social excitements
of Worcester almost seem tame before the engrossing interest of 113
live, warm, wriggling little orphans.

Yours with love,

SALLIE.

P.S. I believe, to be accurate, that it's 107 children I possess this
afternoon.

Dear Judy:

This being Sunday and a beautiful blossoming day, with a warm wind
blowing, I sat at my window with the "Hygiene of the Nervous System"
(Sandy's latest contribution to my mental needs) open in my lap, and
my eyes on the prospect without. "Thank Heaven!" thought I, "that this
institution was so commandingly placed that at least we can look out
over the cast-iron wall which shuts us in."

I was feeling very cooped-up and imprisoned and like an orphan myself;
so I decided that my own nervous system required fresh air and exercise
and adventure. Straight before me ran that white ribbon of road that
dips into the valley and up over the hills on the other side. Ever since
I came I have longed to follow it to the top and find out what lies
beyond those hills. Poor Judy! I dare say that very same longing
enveloped your childhood. If any one of my little chicks ever stands by
the window and looks across the valley to the hills and asks, "What's
over there?" I shall telephone for a motor car.

But today my chicks were all piously engaged with their little souls,
I the only wanderer at heart. I changed my silken Sunday gown for
homespun, planning meanwhile a means to get to the top of those hills.

Then I went to the telephone and brazenly called up 505.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. McGurk," said I, very sweet. "May I be speaking
with Dr. MacRae?"

"Howld the wire," said she, very short.

"Afternoon, Doctor," said I to him. "Have ye, by chance, any dying
patients who live on the top o' the hills beyant?"

"I have not, thank the Lord!"

"'Tis a pity," said I, disappointed. "And what are ye afther doin' with
yerself the day?"

"I am reading the `Origin of Species.'"

"Shut it up; it's not fit for Sunday. And tell me now, is yer motor car
iled and ready to go?"

"It is at your disposal. Are you wanting me to take some orphans for a
ride?"

"Just one who's sufferin' from a nerv